I did yoga for the first time last month.  Not only was it yoga for the first time, it was a 3-day retreat out of town.  Go big or go home.

The words “calming, peaceful” filled my head in anticipation.  I even went out and bought my own mat knowing I’d get addicted to yoga right away.  Well, I got off on the wrong foot (or wrong yoga toes) with flare. I thought, “Donna you need your own yoga mat.”  First for cleanliness since the face, feet, sweat and oils are going to be all over those mats you borrow at the retreat center. And secondly,  I’d be wearing out a mat within the year with all that downward dogging and warrior posing. When I bought the yoga mat, I was surprised that it was less expensive than I anticipated.  Turns out I bought a foam pad you put underneath your sleeping bag when you go camping.  

Then came the yoga itself.  We have been taught we have five senses, right?  Six if you study Buddhism:

1. Sight

2. Hearing

3. Smell

4. Touch

5. Taste

6. Thoughts

Well, who knew yoga wasn’t calming or peaceful but rather a contact sport, an assault on the senses.

Sight: there is nothing calming or peaceful about middle-aged people stretching, grunting, losing their balance and rocking the happy baby.  Once seen, this cannot be unseen.

Hearing: sound therapy was conducted by a random man with no credentials whatsoever, randomly banging on random objects while randomly whispering “I love you” in our ears while we lie in darkness on mats for one whole hour.  Was I the only one wondering when Candid Camera was going to jump out from behind the stack of bolster pillows? Oh, and I almost forget the featured guest in our sound journey was a man we will call John because that’s his name.  John fell asleep and made his snoring part of the sound journey. Another role for the random man with no credentials whatsoever—he’d walk over and push John off of his back every few minutes to make the snoring stop.

Smell: let’s just say it’s best to pick a yoga retreat that is not 100% vegan. Things happen when one has lentil cakes for breakfast, chickpea salad for lunch and falafel for dinner.  I believe it was Lady MacBeth who said it best, “Come, thick night, and pall thee in the dunnest smoke of yoga.” Or something like that.

Touch: I didn’t appreciate that yoga takes a lot of accoutrements to pull off.  Accoutrements like mats, blocks, blankets, bands, bolsters, pillows. Accoutrements that get touched  2-3 times a day with bare feet, faces, hands, hair...then put back into a stuffy storage closet with no ventilation or wipe downs or laundering of any kind...ever.  It’s hard to be calm and peaceful face down touching a mat that’s about as clean as a gym floor after a tournament.

Taste: A highlight of the yoga retreat was the New Year’s Eve celebration around the campfire.  Ringing in the New Year with new clarity of mind and purpose. I respect any decision any person makes about the way they wish to eat.  BUT, gluten free marshmallows on rice cakes are NOT S’mores.  

Lastly, we have the 6th sense.

Thoughts: I met some amazing people at this retreat.  One looking forward to a wedding with wide-eyed joy, one mourning the passing of a loved one while relishing the time they’d had together, one hoping 2020 looks nothing like the hellish last 10 years, one wondering if this illness will allow her to be back next year.  And then there I was... with thoughts of calm and peace after all, full of gratitude and amazement of the life I’ve been given and the people who are sharing it with me.

Yoga is no-ga for me.  I have attended my first and final yoga retreat.  But I have gained a life mantra: “The attitude of gratitude is the highest yoga.” --Yogi Bhajan

Anyone want to go camping? I have a mat.